


The Other Half

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Bodily Functions, Bodyswap, F/M, First Time, Masturbation, Pining, Porn, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: Pike nodded. "You should let the crew know. We'll switch badges and get new uniforms to make it as clear as possible. I'll need to walk Kat through this one myself, though; some of the crustier admirals are gonna have a nutty."Saru blinked; if he'd been harboring any doubts that he was talking to Pike, they clearly evaporated at the phrase "have a nutty" coming from Michael's mouth.In the sudden silence: "Okay, but body-swapping?" Tilly asked, her tone hitting the sheer ridiculousness of it.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 46
Kudos: 151





	The Other Half

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to indulge in a little body-swapping trope fic because it would be shorter than the other story that's nagging me. Ha. That's a lesson in tempting fate. My thanks to Elenothar for taking a look at this for me.

Gesturing to the ready room's viewscreen every so often, Saru ran down all the things they _didn't_ know about the subspace anomaly—which was most everything—Michael and Tilly looking on. Pike prowled around the table in that way he did sometimes, when he was thinking and just needed to move. 

Michael was surprised to realize she recognized that. A wash of fondness swept through her, though she instantly tamped it down. She shouldn't get...distracted like this, even if his movements were eye-catching, fluid and graceful for all that they were aimless. 

Right. She should be focusing. 

Saru turned from the viewscreen, finishing his analysis: "Given that the interference surrounding the anomaly is blocking our sensor scans, there is no way to know what might be on the other side."

Pike raised an eyebrow. "And yet a red angel signal somehow came through." 

Tilly jumped in then, shaking her head vehemently. "Red angel- _like_ ," she insisted. "Uh, just to be clear. We can't say for certain it's a red angel signal, just that it shares _some_ characteristics."

Michael nodded. "The interference is extreme," she emphasized, looking to Pike. "We should treat all data as suspect until we have higher quality readings."

Pike rippled his fingers across one of the tan chairs, Michael zeroing in on the nimble movement, warmth flushing from her cheeks down her neck. 

She silently cursed her body's reaction. Now was _not the time_. 

Michael slid her eyes away, looking back up at Pike, who flicked a pointed glance her way. He'd _caught_ her distraction. Embarrassed heat struck her, though thankfully Pike looked to the screen again, considering. "The only way out is through," he murmured, almost like an afterthought. 

"Sir?" Saru asked, not following. 

"If you're telling me a red angel signal might be on the other side of that thing, then I say our next move is pretty clear."

Tilly opened her mouth to correct him, but Pike beat her to it, "Red angel- _like_ ," he added with a flash of a grin that Michael felt somewhere low. She shifted in discomfort. 

Tilly closed her mouth, unable to help her smile. "Very good, sir."

Saru tilted his head, still not following. "Sir, are you suggesting we take the _Discovery_ through the anomaly?"

Pike smirked. "Now does that sound like me?"

"Yes," Saru replied just as Tilly said, "Have you met you?" 

He flashed a grin. "It's almost like I've gotten a rep as some kind of daredevil flyboy."

"Can't imagine how," Michael said, dry. 

Pike shot her an amused look, it somehow feeling personal for all that they had an audience. Then he shrugged. "While I hate proving you right..."

Saru looked like he was about to object, so Pike raised a hand. "No, Mr. Saru, I'm not taking the _Discovery_ into the anomaly." Saru subsided, nodding in approval. But Pike wasn't done: "I'm taking a shuttle in. Well, Burnham and I are."

Michael blinked, stiffening. Her? Alone...with Pike...in the very tight quarters of a shuttle?

She swallowed and looked to Saru. 

Who had tilted his head in that way that meant _I do not approve_. "You leveraged my extreme suggestion to make your equally extreme suggestion sound reasonable."

"Daredevil flyboy. What are you gonna do?" Pike said, light, dropping into a seat with a grin, so wonderfully _at ease_ in his skin. Michael marveled at him, comfortable in himself in a way she couldn't fathom. 

Something in her _yearned_ for such a feeling. Or maybe it was the part of her that yearned for _him_ , said the small voice she'd been relentlessly ignoring. 

Saru opened his mouth to object again, but Pike cut him off: "Save your breath, Commander. The Admiralty has tasked me with overseeing the red angel investigation _personally_ , not to mention I'm an accomplished pilot who can handle a little interference. Burnham can get sensor readings to her heart's content and no further personnel are put at risk. Win-win-win."

Something in Michael _pulsed_ at Pike's phrasing, even though she knew it was innocent. That didn't stop her actual heart from pounding oddly, senses suddenly buzzing. 

But no. It was just a mission. There was no reason she should be so...affected. She forced those reactions away, focusing on Saru again. 

Saru sighed in defeat. "Yes, sir. But do please remember that if you die, it will be very bad for morale."

Pike's lips curled. "Eh, they'll miss Michael more."

Tilly actually _nodded_ , getting a grin from Pike as he continued, reassuring Saru, "But I take your wisdom and shall endeavor not to get either of us killed." 

***

"So don't hate me, but you were eyefucking Pike pretty hard back there," Tilly said, leaning in so Saru couldn't hear, loping ahead of them down the hall. 

Michael tensed, her pulse picking up again, for an entirely different reason. "I was—what?" 

Tilly looked at her like the innocent act was not going to play, don't even try it. "You were staring at him like you wanted to shove him onto the nearest flat surface and climb aboard."

_That_ flashed before her eyes—Michael pushing Pike back onto the table, climbing up after him, Pike's smile all teasing heat—but she instantly quashed it. "I didn't look at him in any such way," she said, the discomfort making her voice sound tight. 

Tilly studied her, brow furrowing. "Is this denial or embarrassment? I need to calibrate my approach."

Michael looked away. "I have a mission, Tilly."

"Embarrassment, got it," she said, undeterred. "In that case, embrace it, Michael. People have written epic poems about all the filthy things they want to do to our fearless leader. Go with this instinct."

"People are writing epic poems?" Michael asked, faint.

Tilly rolled her eyes. "It's an expression." Then she considered. "Mostly it's just people betting he's good on his knees. Because duh."

Michael flushed as that image flared, hot and bright, Pike reaching for her from the floor, mouth open and wet. 

She swallowed against it and determinedly blanked her mind. It wasn't that such thoughts were new; it was just that every time they struck, she went on edge, uncomfortable, even as some tiny thing inside her reveled in the desire. The contradictions were _maddening_. 

And yet it kept happening. Because being attracted to Captain Pike was the easiest thing in the galaxy, as automatic as breathing. It was that very fact that made her _un_ easy. 

_Nothing_ was that easy. She'd learned that acutely.

None of which Michael wanted to get into with Tilly, who would invariably push. "Inappropriate as this has been," she dismissed, nodding to the shuttle bay doors as they turned the corner and walked through. The bay was a hive of activity, Pike already going through the preflight checks with one of the deckhands. 

Tilly grinned and wrapped her in an unceremonious hug. "You're not getting out of talking about it," she said, squeezing Michael tight.

Michael smiled a little and pulled back. "I never do. Be good."

Tilly shot her a saucy look, then flicked her eyes at Pike. "You be bad," she said, voice dripping with innuendo. 

Michael sighed, long-suffering. "Goodbye, Tilly," she said, turning away from her laughter. 

She headed over to Pike, waiting for her by the ramp. "All set?" he asked, eyes bright, clearly excited to be getting back into the pilot's seat, like a little boy anxious to play with a toy. 

Michael nodded, smiling. "I see I don't need to ask you the same."

Pike bounced on his toes, lips curling, though he tried to contain it. "I can't imagine what you mean."

"Uh-huh. Lead the way, sir. I'd hate to keep you from your fun."

***

Michael couldn't help but watch his hands, clever fingers moving over the controls with such assurance. From the moment Tilly had mentioned his beautiful nailbeds, Michael's eyes had kept straying to his hands, elegant fingers so _sure_. 

She shied away from the shiver of heat that elicited. 

Michael refocused on the brightly hued anomaly as the shuttle approached, like concentric circles of violets and blues, interspersed with the blackness of space. Pike sat relaxed in the pilot's chair, though she could sense a hint of tension in his shoulders. Up close, the anomaly was much larger than it had first appeared, with the circles moving in some kind of rhythmic phasing that the sensors didn't know what to do with. 

As if he'd read her mind, Pike turned to her. "How we doing on the sensors?"

She shook her head, once. "The data is still faint, garbled, even this much closer. For any hope of a clear reading, we're going to have to breach it."

Pike nodded and hit the comms. "Shuttle 6 approaching the anomaly. Our readings are still garbage out here, so we're gonna take a closer look."

"Acknowledged, Captain Pike," Saru said, voice too even. 

Pike cut the comms as he accelerated the shuttle forward. "Oooh, Mom's mad," he said, light.

Michael shot him a dry look. "It's funny you think _he's_ the mom."

Pike grinned, downright wicked. "I cannot _wait_ to tell Saru you called him Daddy."

"I did not—"

He cut her off, delighted. "Nope, no takebacks. Own it. It's yours."

Michael narrowed her eyes at him, charmed despite herself. "I see how it is, spreading your mendacious lies."

Pike shot her an obvious look. "Mendacious means lying. You're just saying lying lies."

"So you _can_ hear what I actually say," she said, a shade needling. 

Pike chuckled, appreciative, the sound vibrating through her, pooling warmth low. She tensed as she realized, trying to control herself. She kept...getting lost in this. She wished her body would just...settle.

"Here we go," Pike murmured as they approached the aperture of the anomaly, flying steady. A beat and they breached it, a small jolt rocking the shuttle. 

But after that one small jolt, the ride turned smooth again, Michael's eyes taking in the data now flying across her screen. "Sensor readings are much clearer here," she said, scrolling through, trying to untangle the mass of data. 

"Holding steady. How much time—what the _hell_ is that?" Pike asked, the hint of stress in his voice making Michael look up. 

The concentric rings, so beautiful from afar, were changing, seeming to expand and—"It looks like they're _aligning_ ," Michael said, hearing the surprise in her own voice. As the circles all lined up into one solid ring, the effect was vibrant, gorgeous...and unmistakably ominous. 

"Right, let's not stick around for the grand finale," Pike muttered, reversing the shuttle's direction, hands steady and sure. 

He flew them quickly, still no resistance even in the eye of the anomaly. Just as the shuttle approached the aperture—

The final ring expanded, locking into place with all the others. A light _flashed_ —

And a shockwave rocketed the shuttle. Michael was thrown against her harness, the light swirling in from the windows, dizzying, the whole shuttle seeming to spin around her. She shut her eyes, trying to get her bearings, but it was like that light was searing into her brain, overwhelming all her senses until it was all she knew. 

The shuttle jolted again—

And the light was gone, Michael's senses coming back online, though her head was _pounding_. 

She blinked her eyes open, trying to clear the afterburn of the light from her field of vision, her whole body feeling fuzzy and remote, that headache still pounding with the beat of her heart. She felt a trickle of blood run from her nose. She reached up—

Michael blinked at the pale fingers in front of her. She felt that trickle again and swiped at her nose—

The fingers came away bloody. Pale fingers, now stained with red, but that couldn't be. _These weren't her fingers._

Michael looked up—

And found _herself_ staring back, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, where she'd been just a moment ago, wide brown eyes now filled with shock, a trickle of blood running from her nose, too. 

The other her opened her mouth, expression cycling through too many emotions to follow, shock the most overwhelming. "...Michael?" she asked. 

No, not _she_ , her mind told her, logic finally coming back online. "Pike?" she asked, startling at the sound of her own voice— _Pike's voice_ —deeper, but no less filled with shock. 

Michael looked down, clocking the captain's badge, the command uniform, the _very male body_ she now inhabited. But...that wasn't possible. 

It _wasn't possible_. 

The other her—no, _Pike_ , her mind insisted, _that was Pike_ —leaned over and hit the comms. " _Discovery_ , we have a problem."

***

As soon as the shuttle docked, Pike had them transported straight to medbay, which was a good thing because Michael wasn't actually sure she could move. 

Thankfully, Pike had taken charge, relaying what happened to Pollard, politely cutting through her disbelief in a way Michael never could have. That may have been the thing that convinced her, in the end: Pike's idioms issuing from Michael's mouth. Pollard had hustled them onto adjacent biobeds, started scanning, and never stopped. 

Michael left others to it, still too stunned by this change to process much of anything. She was...inhabiting Pike's body. Pike was inhabiting hers. 

They had _switched bodies_. 

No matter how many times she repeated it, it didn't get _any less ridiculous_. 

Her eyes kept straying to Pike, who gazed back, the two of them locked in a silent staring contest that _didn't make any sense_. 

How was this possible? She had never heard of anything remotely like this. Sharing a mindspace, yes. And then there was Tyler, who had a second mind grafted on so two people shared one body. But a one-to-one swap? It was unprecedented. It was _impossible_. 

Except that it was happening. Now. To them. 

This endless cycle of impossibility finally cracked when Tilly rushed into medbay, calling out, "Michael, what the hell?" as she rushed toward them, Saru entering behind her, concern in his eyes. 

Tilly hurried to Pike's side, but he just shook his head, pointing over to her on the other biobed, where Michael inhabited his body. "That's Michael," he said, voice soft. 

Tilly blinked, then whirled toward Michael, then whirled back to Pike, disoriented. "What the fuck?" 

Michael knew the feeling. 

"Ensign—" Saru started. 

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to curse, but if any situation warrants it, we've arrived. We're here. I am activating my curse exemption."

Saru laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "I was going to say, perhaps we should let the captain and commander explain."

"Wish we could, Commander," Pike said, his cadence in her voice utterly bizarre to hear. Pike just shook his head. "I couldn't get us clear before the rings in the anomaly lined up. Whatever that flare of light was, everything swirled, and when the dust settled we'd switched bodies." 

Tilly looked from Pike in Michael's form to Michael in Pike's form and back again. "So you're the captain," she said to Pike and then she turned to Michael. "And you're my bestie."

"At the moment, yes," Michael confirmed. 

Tilly took a sharp breath. "Yeah, that's gonna take me a minute."

Pike huffed a laugh. "Welcome to the party." He looked to Saru. "Did the ship's sensors pick up anything?"

Saru frowned. "We noticed the rings aligning and tried to reach you, but the interference wouldn't allow us to connect."

"And since then?" Michael asked, everyone looking over at her. "Have the rings changed?"

Tilly frowned, trying to remember. "Uhh, last I checked they were separating when you guys were on your way back. Obviously, we got a little distracted."

Pike looked over at Michael and nodded, like he was reading her mind. "It's a good thought. Saru, have our people monitor the anomaly to see if this phenomenon happens again. It may be our way back to ourselves."

"Yes...sir," Saru said, almost like a question. 

Pike smiled, wry, an expression common on his face, but far less so on Michael's. "Yeah, that's gonna be a pickle," he agreed. "Let's just stick with how we already identify. I'm Captain, Michael's Commander, my pronouns are he and him, Michael's are..." He looked over to her, prompting.

"She and hers," she said, sure enough of that, at least. 

Pike nodded. "You should let the crew know. We'll switch badges and get new uniforms to make it as clear as possible. I'll need to walk Kat through this one myself, though; some of the crustier admirals are gonna have a nutty."

Saru blinked; if he'd been harboring any doubts that he was talking to Pike, they clearly evaporated at the phrase "have a nutty" coming from Michael's mouth. 

In the sudden silence: "Okay, but body-swapping?" Tilly asked, her tone hitting the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

Finally, someone was on Michael's wavelength. 

Pike snorted. "Agreed, Ensign. Once we get it fixed, it's going to be hilarious. Right now, well. I'm still in denial and hoping it's all a bad dream. Unless the dear doctor has a miracle for us," he said as Pollard approached, her expression grim. 

"That's why I don't go in for miracles; then people start expecting them," she said, somber. 

Pike tilted his head. "Probably smart. What do ya got, Doc?"

"Nothing good." She gestured at the holographic display next to Pike's biobed, bringing up a scan of two brains. She pointed to one, then the other. "This is Michael's body's last scan. This is her body's scan now."

Saru took them in, eyes dilating as he studied the swirling patterns. "They look fundamentally different."

"That they do." She made a gesture and brought up two more scans, under the first two. "These are the scans of the captain's body. Notice anything?"

Lined up as they were, it was impossible to miss how the two scans didn't match each other, but _did_ match the ones above them. 

Pike sighed. Then he rallied, looking around. "Well, hey, at least we've got proof _we're_ not having a nutty."

Pollard looked over to Michael to include her, then back to Pike. "Your neural maps have completely swapped onto each other's forms. It's...well, it's not possible. So as of right now, I don't even know where to begin to fix it."

"Cool," Tilly said, still staring at the scans. Realizing what she'd said, she corrected herself: "I mean, it's totally horrific in every way, but also, ya know. Kinda cool. You guys are gonna end up a case study," she said brightly, looking from Michael to Pike and back again, jazzed as only she got when faced with impossible science. 

Pike smiled a little, apparently still capable of finding the humor in things. "Since you're so enthused, Ensign, why don't you help the doc take a crack at reversing it?"

Tilly beamed, never happier than being given groundbreaking science. "Absolutely, sir."

"Good." He turned back to Pollard. "Aside from the part where we've been body-swapped against our will, is there anything physically wrong with us?"

Saru understood where he was headed with that and spoke up. "Sir." He didn't even need to say it; the protest was in his voice. 

"Simmer down, Mr. Saru. Doctor?"

Pollard looked like she didn't enjoy any of the options before her. "There's nothing physically wrong with you."

Pike nodded, decisive. "In that case, we'll leave you to your research." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped off, light on his feet. Or on Michael's feet, as it were. 

"Sir, you can't seriously plan to go back on duty," Saru put in again, like he'd kept his silence as long as he could. 

"Oh, hell no. I'm going to bed. Burnham, too." He looked over at her then, still prone in her biobed, still not fully able to wrap her mind around this. She understood it, intellectually, but physically?

Michael swallowed against the maelstrom inside her. She swung her legs over the bed and stood, fighting a flush as she did. Now that the shock had started to recede, she realized...there was definitely an appendage between her legs she'd never had before. 

Michael had a dick and she had _no idea_ how she was supposed to handle that. 

"Yes, sir," she finally said, figuring that at least in the privacy of her own quarters she could figure out...how to exist in this body. 

Then she stilled. Privacy. 

"Michael?" Saru asked, sensing that something was up. 

Michael smiled at Saru, grateful for the concern, but then looked to Pike. "Captain, for the duration of our...condition, I think it best if I take one of the empty VIP quarters." 

Tilly's head whipped to look at her. "What? Why? Don't worry about me. I don't care if you see me naked, even if you are Pike-shaped." She shot a quick look to Pike. "Um, I mean—"

Michael interrupted, for her own good, really. "It's not about that, Tilly. It's for the captain's privacy." She looked back to him, fascinated at the thoughts she could see flitting through his eyes, half-Pike, but half-her, too, as the logistics of this slammed home. 

A beat and he nodded. "It's a good idea. I'll escort you." He turned to Saru. "I leave the ship in your capable hands, Commander."

***

As Pike walked her to the VIP quarters, Michael couldn't help but marvel at the sheer surreality of it. Not just the dick between her legs, shifting with her movement, utterly distracting, but every little thing—colors seemed just the slightest shade off, the flashing lights distracted her more, the ship even _smelled_ different. 

And then there was Pike's body itself. 

Everything about Pike was big. He took up so much more _space_ than Michael was used to. He had twenty centimeters on her, easily, plus at least thirty pounds of sheer muscle mass. She'd always had to look up at people; it had never even occurred to her that it could be another way. But in Pike's body, she was suddenly looking down at them as they passed, having to catch herself from stumbling when she overbalanced due to her new center of gravity. She felt ungainly, awkward, like she didn't fit. Intellectually she knew this made sense. This body wasn't _hers_. 

Emotionally, a very small part of her was terrified she'd be stuck with it forever. 

It was an awful thought. Everyone would be working on finding a solution, doing their best. They'd solved more impossible problems than this. And even if they couldn't figure out how to reverse it, in the grand scheme of things there were many worse things than switching into another body. Pike was fit and healthy; he had decades of life ahead of him. There were _many_ worse things. 

Yet the fear still had hold of her. Worse was the shame that accompanied it. She should be stronger than to let this weakness overwhelm her. Hell, Pike seemed utterly unfazed. 

Michael glanced over, that sense of calm still hovering around him, Pike taking to Michael's gait easily, seeming to have no trouble with his new body. If anything, he looked _more_ at home in Michael's skin than she'd ever felt there. 

With that came a flash of irritation. Why did he have to be so _good_ at everything?

Sensing her look, Pike glanced at her then, his expression going from calm neutrality to sympathy in a flash. "It's okay, Michael."

Michael looked away, clenching her jaw to keep from disagreeing. _Nothing_ was okay. 

It was a relief to see the door to the VIP quarters ahead. She just wanted to be away from prying eyes for a while, to get a handle on this _feeling_ swamping her, like she was being sucked under with no hope of rescue. 

She walked to the door, noting with satisfaction that it opened for her automatically. She turned to bid Pike farewell, but he was already walking through, taking in the VIP quarters. Frowning, Michael followed, absently noting the dark gray décor, sumptuous but impersonally so. She heard the doors close behind them, leaving them alone. 

Eight hours ago, the thought of being alone with Pike in private quarters would have sent a rush of heat through her. Now she couldn't feel anything, still reeling. 

Pike turned to her with a sigh. "This is difficult," he acknowledged, eyes so gentle even if they weren't his. "I want you to know that I'm here for you, Michael. If you want to talk...or not talk. Anything. Anything I can do."

Pike saying that, wearing her face, something about it finally cracked her open. She could feel the tears leaking out as she staggered back, bracing herself against the wall, breath shaky as a storm of emotion crashed over her. She got a glimpse of Pike's startled eyes, but looked away, not wanting to see her own face doing things not in her control. She slid down the wall, burying her head in her hands, eyes stinging as more tears fell, her shoulders shaking. 

_This couldn't be happening_. 

For most of the life she could remember, she was the odd one out. The human on Vulcan. The Vulcan-raised human in Starfleet. Out of sorts, out of step. And now, _this_? She wasn't herself like this. She didn't know who she _was_.

Dimly, she felt Pike approach. He sat beside her and reached out, curling a tentative arm around her shoulders, the touch gentle, but somehow grounding. 

They sat like that for a while, Michael's tears slowing, her breath evening out from the hitching that had overtaken her. Eventually she turned to him, still barely able to meet his eyes. "What are we going to do?"

Pike looked at her, fierce, one hand squeezing her shoulder. "We're going to get through this. Together. You hear me?"

She wanted to fall into his sheer conviction, to let it burn all her worries away. But she couldn't get over the disorientation of staring at her own face and knowing it wasn't _hers_ anymore. It might never be hers again. 

So she said nothing, bowing her head, hoping against hope that he was right. 

***

Eventually Pike left her alone, with yet another encouragement to call him if she needed him. Michael appreciated the offer, but she was wrung out, exhausted. She just wanted to fall into numb blackness for a while. 

Unfortunately there were several steps on the way to that, which introduced her to a whole new range of horrors. 

She was going to have to...live in this body. 

She collected new sleep clothes from the replicator, in Pike's size, changing into them in the lavatory, trying not to look at him in the mirror. But avoiding the reality just...wasn't possible, especially when she had to use the facilities. Peeing standing up was more efficient, she dimly acknowledged, but mostly she was overwhelmed with having to touch him to do so. The whole process made her flush in embarrassment, her dick shifting with every movement, Michael constantly aware of it. Even worse, when she finally did look in the mirror while washing her hands, she could _see_ the flush of discomfort on Pike's pale skin. 

The idea that her skin would now be broadcasting her emotions sent a fresh wave of despair through her. 

She stumbled to bed, trying to force it all out of her mind. She just needed to sleep. Everything would look more manageable in the morning. 

It _would_.

***

Michael woke slowly, her head fuzzy, confused at the unfamiliar bed. She shifted—

And her sleep pants pulled against her half-hard dick, sending a burst of _heat_ rushing up her spine. 

With it, everything slammed home. The shuttle trip. Finding herself in Pike's body. Her new private quarters. 

And no way back. 

Michael swallowed the emotion that swept through her—worry and embarrassment and that nagging hint of fear. But for all that the emotions were the same, they had lessened, not quite so overwhelming. Maybe it was the sleep. Maybe it was her unconscious mind processing things. Whatever the reason, she was grateful. Though she didn't relish her new situation, neither did she feel bowled over by it. 

It was progress. 

She sat up, trying to ignore the fullness in her dick. Erections were a natural response to REM sleep; this was nothing unexpected. 

Still, the fluttery pleasure of it _was_ , distracting her, making her think of bodies moving, pleasure shared. 

Her dick _twitched_ at that thought and Michael instantly blanked her mind. While nighttime erections were out of her control, her own thoughts and actions _weren't_. She shouldn't be...encouraging this. 

Michael slipped out of bed, gritting her teeth against the feel of sleep pants brushing against her dick as she moved, heading for the lavatory. 

She set the water of the shower to cold, then stripped her clothes off, determinedly not looking in the mirror. 

Stepping under the spray was a shock, Michael gritting her teeth against the feeling. Thankfully, her dick wilted, uninterested in this particular stimulus. 

Relieved that that had worked, Michael went about cleaning her new body, doing all she could not to stare too much. This was already horrifyingly personal; she didn't need to add any disrespect on top of that. Pike certainly wouldn't. 

Unbidden, her mind went to Pike in her body, hands sliding over her skin in the shower. Her dick twitched—

And Michael slammed the lid on _those_ thoughts, too. Pike would be as respectful as humanly possible. She knew this. 

There was no point in thinking on it further. 

***

Despite the shower taking care of her unwanted erection, Michael couldn't shake the awareness of the dick between her legs. It kept...reacting to people. Mostly women. It wasn't even specific women. Put a female form in front of her and her mind unerringly returned to all the sex she could be having—the sensuous slide of mouths and bodies and _heat_. 

It was driving her mad.

"Veggie omelet," she sulkily directed to the replicator.

"Michael, there you are," Tilly greeted from behind, her voice bright and welcoming. 

Michael turned—

And her dick twitched. _Dammit_. 

Something must have shown in her face because Tilly hitched a step, expression going worried. "Whoa. What, did you have a bad night in your fancy new digs?"

"My quarters are fine," Michael said, turning back at the replicator's ding and taking her tray. 

"Okay, but you're scowling. Is being in Pike's body that bad?" she asked, gesturing Michael toward one of the small white tables where Owo and Detmer already sat, two open seats saved for them, one bearing Tilly's breakfast tray.

"Morning," Michael said to them as she approached, still not used to the deep timbre of her voice. She ruthlessly ignored how her body reacted to the sight of them. 

"Lookin' good, Michael," Detmer joked with a grin. 

"I apologize in advance if I call you 'sir,'" Owo offered, toasting her with a cup of coffee. 

Michael smiled, deeply grateful to have such supportive friends. "It is an adjustment," she agreed, setting her tray down and dropping into the seat. 

In the wider mess hall, she could feel everyone's eyes on her, glancing over, curious about what was happening. She did her best to ignore it. 

"Is that why you're all grouchy? Being a dude sucks as much as I suspect?" Tilly guessed, spearing some cantaloupe from her own plate and popping it in her mouth. 

Michael forced her eyes _away_ from Tilly's mouth and let out a frustrated breath. "It really does."

Tilly grinned, shooting the others a look. "Ha! I told you so." She looked back to Michael. "Thank you for confirming this lifelong hypothesis, I can die secure in my superiority now."

Owo shot her a look. "Was there ever a doubt of that?"

Tilly waved a strawberry at her. "Objective evidence. We have it now. You know I'm right." She looked to Michael again, sympathetic, but only just. "I'm really sorry you have to be the sacrificial lamb on this one, but also, tell us everything."

Michael sighed, not wanting to invade Pike's privacy, but also needing to not feel so alone with this. She knew she could trust Tilly, Owo, and Detmer with it, even if something in her gut still burned with humiliation at her lack of control. "I keep—" Michael gestured weakly, then leaned closer, lowering her voice. "All I can think about is sex."

They all blinked. Tilly's lips twitched. 

"Really?" Michael grumbled just as Tilly broke out into a grin, Owo and Detmer following soon after.

"Okay, okay, we're sorry," Detmer said, shooting the others a look. Their smiles dimmed, but still lived at the corners of their mouths. 

Mouths that Michael couldn't help but _notice_ , feeling it in the base of her dick.

Being in a man's body was so undignified. 

Tilly's smile spread again anyway, like she couldn't help herself. "You're in a bad mood because you want to bang all the things?"

" _All_ the things," Michael emphasized. "Every time I look at someone, I want to—" She stopped, forcing herself not to think about all the things she _wanted_. 

"Wait, even us?" Tilly asked, like this was the best thing ever. Owo and Detmer's eyes widened, like it hadn't occurred to them that _all the things_ also meant them. 

"Not the point, Tilly," Michael shot back, glaring a little. 

"No fun," Tilly said, pouting. Then she brightened. "But it sounds like Pike's been holding out on us."

Michael defiantly took a bite of her omelet—

And frowned. "Did the ship update its recipe logs?" she asked, chewing carefully, startled. It tasted...different. 

Owo gestured to Michael's body with her cup of coffee. "Different body. That means different taste buds."

Michael deflated. Was she going to have to relearn what to eat? She couldn't walk without overbalancing, she couldn't look at anyone without unwanted bodily reactions, now she couldn't even _eat_?

The others seemed to sense her distress, expressions going genuinely sympathetic. Detmer leaned over and patted her hand. "It'll be okay, Michael. We'll figure it out."

Tilly nodded, once. "Damn right. And until then, I'm sure you'll get a handle on your new voracious sexual appetite. I mean, Pike's flown solo this whole time, so clearly it's possible to keep it under wraps."

Michael swallowed. "Right. Of course. Thanks," she said, pushing the despair back, forcing herself to take another bite of the now-unappetizing omelet.

In her peripheral, she noticed Specialist Wells headed in their direction, her long dark hair swinging in with her determined gait. She paused at the next table over and shooed Jansen out of his seat. "I'm taking this," she informed him, Jansen stumbling back as she grabbed his chair and pushed it up to their table, Jansen muttering an offended, "What the fuck, Keels," as she did. 

She didn't even bother paying attention to him, zeroing in on Michael, green eyes nakedly interested. "So, like, everyone's desperately curious to know your deal," she said, reaching over and stealing a slice of pineapple from Tilly's plate. Tilly swatted at her with a fork, but she was too late, Wells grinning at her in triumph as she popped it in her mouth. 

Michael's dick _twitched_. 

She swallowed hard, eyes moving away from Wells' mouth—away from her striking, heart-shaped face—dropping to the safety of her plate. "I don't know what that means."

"Duh." Wells' gesture to her body caught her attention, Michael's eyes following her really very elegant hands, sliding over to her chest—

Michael forced her eyes away, discomfort roiling in her gut as her body reacted to this very attractive young woman looking at her with such focused interest. Her lack of control was _unseemly_.

Tilly made an irritated sound and shook her head at Wells, red curls bouncing. "Michael's still adjusting, Keels. Chill."

"I'm cool," she protested, sitting back a little, somehow emphasizing the curve of her body. She looked to Michael again. "I'm just here to say, Burnham, if you want to take that vehicle for a ride, I am volunteering my services." She made a small suggestive sound that went _straight_ to Michael's dick. 

Michael reared back, shock sliding through her. "What? But—I'm a woman..." 

Wells shrugged. "Not a dealbreaker."

Owo and Detmer actually grinned at Wells. Tilly just sent her a quelling look. "Dropping bombs is not chill."

Michael's mouth opened, then closed again. _What_? "That's—I—it would be a violation of the captain's bodily autonomy," she finally got out. 

"Why? It's not like he's in residence," she said, gesturing at Michael's current form.

"But it's his body," Michael protested, sure on that, at least. 

"Technically, it's yours right now," Wells pointed out. "I mean, look, I know everyone's trying to find a way to swap you back, but there's a non-zero chance this is your new reality. And even if we do figure it all out, why not take this hot set of wheels for a spin? For science," she added with a bit of cheek.

"Oh, my god, Keels, can you calm down with the Pike lust?" Tilly said, shooting her another look. 

"I think experiencing orgasms as a man and a woman would be a valuable scientific experiment," she shot back, undeterred. 

"Tiresias would agree," Owo put in, not at all helpfully. 

"Who was a mythological figure," Michael protested, horrified. "This would be like...drugging someone senseless and taking advantage of them."

Wells made an affronted noise as Detmer frowned. "Not really, though? There isn't actually a good comp for this," she said, thoughtful. 

"Unprecedented, once again," Tilly chirped, smiling in sympathy, trying to make it better. 

"Where can I get some boring?" Michael asked, short. The others snickered even as she continued, "Seriously, I would like to be boring for a while."

Owo grinned. "You do seem to be cursed."

Wells leaned in then, her smile a predatory gleam. "Since we're all out of boring," she drawled. "I say we embrace the bonkers and have wild, hot sex. After shift?" she suggested, bright and open, like she regularly scheduled sexual liaisons amidst group settings. 

Michael's dick twitched again. 

"Uh, I don't think I should be using the captain's body in that way," she stuttered out, struggling with how this body was clearly interested. Even so, Michael couldn't imagine it. She'd never been physically attracted to women—though, to be fair, she hadn't been physically attracted to all that many men—except Pike's body clearly _was_ and did he... _do_ that? Find satisfaction in sleeping with the audacious, stunning women who threw themselves at him? He hadn't yet, but from the stirring in her dick, he clearly wanted to. 

Was _Michael_ supposed to do that?

Dimly, Michael realized that if they didn't find a way to switch back she was headed for a sexuality crisis. And she had _no idea_ where to start with it. 

Wells' eyes flitted to something behind Michael, then moved back. "In that case, I say we ask the man himself," she said, standing. 

Michael turned to look, finding Pike, just arrived and moving toward the replicator. Unbidden, her dick _twitched_ , seeming more forceful than with others. But did that mean something? Or was Michael just reacting to the sight of her _own_ body? 

But there was something else, too. Seeing him wear the command uniform on her body _struck_ her, a reminder of her old life on the _Shenzhou_ , the track she'd once wanted for herself. A pang of loss slammed into her, out of nowhere, only compounding the loss of her own physical form. 

She'd lost so much. 

Wells walking toward Pike snapped her out of the unexpected emotion, Michael instinctively hurrying after, still too aware of her dick, worry making her heart thump in her chest.

What if Pike was fine with Michael having sex while in his body? Did she want that? This body clearly did, but her mind continued to balk. But was she just...being unreasonable?

Wells intercepted Pike, no hesitation. "Hey, Captain," she said, Pike pausing politely. She gestured at his body—at _Michael's_ body. "Given all this, wouldn't _you_ wanna know what it feels like to get fucked by a dude?"

Pike blinked, but didn't otherwise react, as unflappable in Michael's skin as in his own. "You assume I don't already," he said, mild. 

Michael's eyes widened at that revelation, but Wells just flashed a grin, rolling with it. "Okay, first off, that is extremely hot and I want to hear all about it. But more importantly, getting fucked as a dude's gotta be way different than when you have ladyparts. Burnham's being a whole-ass prude about it. Aren't we supposed to be explorers? This is, like, the definition of groundbreaking sexual exploration and I think we should all embrace it," she finished with a convinced nod, like how could anyone possibly argue?

Michael just stared. 

Pike eyed her, dryly unimpressed. "Let me guess. You want to embrace it right into Michael's bed."

"Well, now that you mention it," Wells said, wide-eyed and innocent and not at all like she'd spent the last five minutes trying to convince Michael to have sex with her. 

Pike actually huffed a laugh. "Specialist Wells, I continue to marvel at your laser focus on your own gratification." 

"You gotta enjoy life, sir," she said, green eyes solemn. 

Pike's lips twitched. "Believe it or not, I quite agree. Just stop trying to enjoy it with _my_ body, would you?"

Wells heaved an exaggerated sigh. "You can't blame a girl for trying."

Pike shot her an amused look then turned to Michael. "A word?"

Michael nodded and followed after him, heading right back out of the mess hall. Relief swept through her as she realized he was getting them away from...all of that. "Thank you," she said, falling in with him.

Pike smirked. "Knowing Wells, I bet that was a fun conversation."

"She's...talked to you about this?" Michael asked, startled by that idea.

"And how," Pike said, something rueful in it. "But she did actually find her way to a good point there."

Michael's stride hitched with sudden alarm, heart rate increasing. "She _did_?"

Pike slanted a look at her, raising a calming hand. "Gimme a little credit." He nodded her into a more private alcove, Michael following, her heart still thumping in her chest. He turned to look at her, totally composed. Michael couldn't help but stare at the ease with which he inhabited her body, like nothing was amiss. She still wanted to crawl out of her skin. His skin. Whatever. 

"I simply meant," he continued, voice low, "That we should have talked about the personal stuff. Forgive me, it wasn't my first thought."

Michael inclined her head. "Nor mine," she admitted.

"Gee, I wonder why," he said, dry. 

She smiled, appreciative of his relentless effort to make this a little less horrific. Even if it was in vain. 

Pike looked away, shaking his head slightly before he met her gaze again. "I'm not seeing anyone, nor do I intend to. It's—my position can make relationships...difficult, so I've mostly resigned myself to my solitude."

Michael wondered if it was her own projection that she saw a flash of regret in his eyes at that, but mostly she was trying to avoid her own pang of disappointment. Which she _shouldn't be feeling_. It wasn't like she'd been...hoping. It was just...a sympathetic response to her comrade's difficulties. 

Totally. 

"That's understandable, sir," she said, keeping her voice even. "I'm also single and have no intention of changing that for the foreseeable future."

He shot her a dry look—which was absolutely fascinating to see on her face—as he said, "Even if Ensign Saito gins up the courage?"

Michael blinked. She wasn't surprised by that information—Tilly had mentioned it a few times—but how did _Pike_ know? "Please tell me he didn't."

Pike grinned. "He and I had a revelatory conversation about physical attraction. Well, I assume it was revelatory for him," he added.

Michael made a disgruntled noise. "Everything about this is undignified."

"I'm leaning into the humor of it. Anything to head off the breakdown."

Michael inclined her head. But still, she felt the need to say: "I'm sorry for Saito, Captain. I should have—"

"Chris," Pike interrupted, waving the rest away. 

"What?"

"We're living in each other's bodies. Dealing with each other's wayward suitors. Just call me Chris already." Something in his voice said it meant more to him than just that, so despite how very personal it felt, Michael nodded. 

"Good." Pike—no, _Chris_ —nodded back, pleased. His attention widened to the hall, people coming and going, still shooting them looks. "You know, I didn't eat, but the thought of being on display doesn't appeal. Breakfast in the ready room?" he asked, an offer in his voice. 

"Please, yes," Michael said in relief. 

Chris just grinned. 

***

"You really don't like coffee, do you?" Chris asked, sitting down at the conference table with a cup, a frown on his face. The remains of their breakfasts had been disposed of, Michael trying oatmeal with berries at Chris' suggestion, finding it satisfying in a way she never had before. Chris had eaten a veggie omelet without complaint, but it was obvious this would be an adjustment for both of them. Throughout the whole meal, whenever she looked over at Pike, Michael felt that stirring in her dick, thoroughly distracting. She still didn't know what it meant. 

"I really don't," Michael agreed. "Tea," she suggested.

Chris made a face. "Jesus, I already miss the idea of coffee. Here." He offered her the cup, which she took, trying a small sip. The flavor burst on her tongue, not nearly as bitter as she had come to associate with coffee. 

"Fascinating," she murmured. 

"That's one word for it," he shot back, dry. 

That was when the door opened, admitting Saru for their morning briefing, followed by Tilly and Pollard. "Morning everyone," Chris said, gesturing expansively, the others taking their seats. 

They all echoed morning greetings. "Anything?" Chris asked, hopeful. 

Tilly and Pollard exchanged looks. Michael's gut sank. 

"There is nothing in the literature even remotely helpful," Pollard said bluntly. "However we fix this, I'm afraid the solution is not medical."

"Sorry," Tilly added like she was kicking herself for not finding the brilliant, improbable solve. 

Michael sent her a reassuring look. "It was a long shot, anyway."

Saru nodded. "Indeed. Still, the problem remains."

"I don't suppose there was any change to the rings overnight?" Michael asked, hopeful.

"Science officers have been monitoring it. The rings do seem to shift in some pattern, but the computer has been unable to pattern match it."

"Yet!" Tilly put in, a shade of insistence to her voice. "We could crack it any moment, really."

Chris smiled, approving. "That's the kind of attitude I like to hear." He looked to Pollard with an accepting head tilt. "Thanks for trying, Doc. Hopefully we can figure something out from the anomaly angle."

She nodded. "Keep me apprised." With that, she stood, taking her leave. 

Chris looked to the others. "As for the rest of us, I suppose it's time to science the shit out of this."

*** 

Seeing her body sitting in the captain's chair was another bout of surreality Michael hadn't expected. She had once dreamed of such a thing—captaining a ship—but that felt like a lifetime ago. Watching it happen now, in a completely different context...Michael didn't know how to feel about that. That old loss still stung, but she had let it go; she didn't know why it hurt now. 

Perhaps it was just that everything hurt, Michael still so unsettled in this new form, clumsily trying to work control panels that seemed to have changed size on her. 

They hadn't; _she_ had. Her hands were still dexterous, but ever so slightly _off_. She was used to working at her own speed in her own body and she couldn't seem to acclimate to this new reality. 

As always, Chris seemed wildly unaffected, as smooth as ever, wholly comfortable. The crew? That was another story. Every time someone walked onto the bridge, Michael watched them do a double-take—looking from Chris to Michael and back again before they remembered. Saru kept frowning at them, visibly disappointed that some people clearly hadn't gotten the memo. 

After the fourth person it actually got a little funny. 

Chris stayed above it all, presiding over more scans of the anomaly, the interference still frustrating their sensors. Hearteningly, Michael's data from inside the anomaly helped, adding the necessary clarity to what they already knew. So their misadventure hadn't been a complete waste.

Michael's station beeped. She hit the expand button—

And missed. _Again_. 

The frustration inside her _flared_. Chris' hands were bigger than hers, yes, but she should have mastered this by now. She kept hitting the wrong things, having to focus much harder on what she was accessing. It was like learning how to type all over again. 

Slower, Michael pressed the expand command—

The data scrolling by was extensive, but the result was quite clear. "Red angel analysis results, Captain," she called, looking up to meet Chris' gaze as he turned to look at her, still startled to see her own face staring back. 

"Dare I ask?"

Michael shook her head. "Tilly was right."

"Red angel- _like_ ," Chris echoed, the corners of his lips turning down. But he instantly cleared it, shaking off the disappointment. "Body-swapped and we didn't even find a new signal. The things I do for the Federation," he said, dry.

It got a light laugh from around the room, Michael smiling at the effort he put into lightening things. "You should remind the Admiralty of this the next time they get on your case," she offered, equally dry. 

"Oh, I am getting years of leeway out of this. I already put Kat on notice," he shot back, this grin more genuine. He turned to look at the screen, still showing the anomaly. "Well, with all this bad news, we're bound to catch a break soon."

Everyone focused back on their stations, united in their determination. It was truly inspiring the way the crew pulled together at these times. Michael let herself be grateful for it for another moment...

And then she went back to her data. 

***

The bridge crew, plus Tilly and Stamets, reconvened in the afternoon to pool their information, but the problem was that they had no new information. The anomaly was doing its thing, no different than before, and Pollard had exhausted the medical options. What was left was...less promising. 

"Perhaps we could go to Betazed to consult with some of their experts?" Saru suggested.

Chris frowned. "But this seems to be consciousness transfer, not telepathy."

"Still, they might have some insight into the type of mental processes we find ourselves faced with," Saru said, reasonable, if not entirely convinced. Michael frowned, unconvinced.

Before Chris could respond, Tilly pounded a hand on the conference table, calling out: "The sphere data!"

Everyone looked at her, blank. 

Tilly's expression started to turn self-conscious, so Michael took pity on her. "What do you mean by that, Tilly?"

"Um, I—well, I was just thinking that we need to know if the anomaly does this a lot, right?"

Chris was nodding before she even finished her sentence. "And the sphere data contains a record of the last hundred thousand years of this quadrant. That's brilliant, Ensign." 

Tilly puffed up a little at the praise even as Michael felt a telltale tingling at the base of her dick. Anticipation, she realized in dawning horror. This body... _reacted_ to nonsexual anticipation, too. 

Michael took a breath, trying to will her body to calm, which was difficult given the increase in excitement level in the room, everyone perking up at the prospect of a lead. 

Chris looked around, brown eyes alight. "Start sifting through that data. Pull whoever you need. Let's find out if this is the usual Friday night show."

"Aye, Captain," they all chorused, everyone standing. 

Everyone except for Michael, who tried to look unobtrusive while remaining seated, willing the stirring in her dick to recede.

Chris noticed she wasn't moving with a curious head tilt as the room cleared, everyone heading back to their stations to work. Once the others were gone, his look went knowing. "Excited about something there, Michael?" he asked, a pointed note to his voice obliterating her hope of getting out of here with dignity intact. 

Michael blew out a slow breath. "How do you _live_ like this?" she asked, frustrated. 

Chris laughed, reclining a little in his seat, clearly comfortable in her body in a way she was not in his. "Oh, this should be good. Do tell."

"I get turned on. All the time. I constantly think about sex. For no reason. It's all _incredibly_ distracting."

Chris' smirk wasn't anything she'd ever seen on her own face. "Testosterone's a hell of a drug, huh?"

"How do I make it _stop_?" she asked, an edge to the question.

"So much of human history would be different if you could," he said, half-dry, half-serious. "You just gotta accept that it's going to be what it is and focus on something else."

"All I can focus on is wanting to sleep with half the people I see. Is this how you—" Michael broke off, realizing she probably shouldn't ask her commanding officer about all the sex he wanted to have. 

Chris shrugged, meditative. "I learned to ignore it long ago." He studied his hand— _her hand_ —thoughtful. "I have to say, this experience has been a revelation. My thoughts are so much clearer."

"I'm aware," she muttered, a shade disgruntled.

Chris smiled at her, sympathetic again. "A trick I use is to envision the lake near my parents' house in Mojave. Be one with the stillness," he said, a little quirk to his lips telling her he'd repeated this mantra to himself again and again. "But you should tailor it for yourself, of course. Whatever works."

Michael blew out a slow breath, focusing her mind on the deep black empty of space, the cold endless and punishing. Her dick subsided. Slightly. 

Chris' mouth quirked again. "Take a moment to gather yourself," he said, eyes twinkling as he rose. 

***

It took a few long minutes to get back under control, her dick calming enough to let her stand and return to her duties. 

Constantly having to police her body like this was downright exhausting.

She wanted her _real_ body back. 

***

"Eureka!" Tilly called out from one of the science stations, heads turning her way all over the bridge. Michael's heart started pounding, recognizing the note of excitement in Tilly's voice. That was her _I solved it_ tone. 

Chris regarded Tilly, cautiously optimistic. "You found something, Ensign?"

"I found _the_ thing," she crowed, delighted. "The sphere data is the shit." She caught sight of Saru, deflating a little at his stern expression. "Um, I mean—"

Chris waved it off, encouraging her with a look. "Enlighten us."

Tilly gestured and threw the data up on the big screen, explaining as she did. "The sphere _did_ record the anomaly, at multiple points over its life. From its data, those rings line up approximately every eighty hours."

Michael swallowed against her excitement, forcibly ignoring the tingling in her dick as she scanned the data now on her terminal, as well. "And each time it does, it releases that flare of light." She glanced up and met Chris' eyes, seeing her own hope reflected back at her. 

"So we just have to hang around for a couple more days," Chris said. 

Saru made a considering noise. "Forgive me, but how do we know the process will reverse itself?"

It dampened Michael's excitement, which was probably a good thing, given uniform pants, she dimly realized. 

Chris sighed. "You're right, Mr. Saru. We don't. But even so, this is the closest we have to a solution, so Burnham and I should hop into a shuttle and go for a spin regardless."

Saru inclined his head. "Fair enough, sir."

"Still, this is good. Well done, Ensign," Chris said, nodding to Tilly again, who flushed in pleasure. 

Michael smiled at her, grateful. Two days. She just had to hang in for two more days and they had a shot at going back to their real selves. 

She tried not to let the excitement get to her. She'd had quite enough of that.

***

"Can we talk about it yet?" Tilly asked at dinner, taking a bite of her salad and chewing pointedly. 

Michael stilled, her bite of fish suspended between her plate and mouth. "What?" she asked. 

Tilly shot her a look. "Your little crush on the captain," she said, her tone obvious. 

Michael took her bite, chewing determinedly. Once she swallowed: "There's nothing to talk about."

Tilly actually laughed, then started ticking things off on her hand: "One, your secret crush on the captain, which I'm still miffed you hid from me like a traitorous traitor. Two, you're now inhabiting the body of said secret crush. Three, your secret crush wants to bang all the things." Tilly looked at her, blue eyes frank. "Try it again, friend."

Michael sighed and put down her fork. She wasn't...wrong. But that still didn't make it anything Michael wanted to discuss. 

"I didn't want to think about it any more than I already was," she explained, knowing Tilly would need to know the why behind the secret. 

Tilly blinked a little, clearly puzzled. "Why not, though? Pike's awesome."

"I just felt...out of sorts," Michael tried, not knowing how to explain the discomfort that had plagued her ever since she'd looked at Pike and _wanted_. 

Tilly's expression went sympathetic. "None of that now, huh."

Michael blew out a slow breath. "Now I just want to get back to that discomfort. I'll take it, gladly."

Tilly smiled, reaching over to squeeze her hand, supportive. "We'll get you there. I know we will."

Michael smiled, nodding, letting Tilly's reassurance bolster her own. "Thanks."

She took her hand away, her smile going a shade wicked. "It must be wild to be in his body. Talk about getting a look at the goods pre-sale."

Michael shot her a quelling look. "Tilly."

"What? I am stating the obvious here."

"And I'm trying to be respectful," Michael shot back. 

Tilly narrowed her eyes. "Does that mean you haven't taken him in hand?" she asked, tone laced with innuendo. 

" _Tilly_."

She shook her head innocently. "I'm just saying. Yeah, sleeping with Keels is a no-go, and I get that, but she's not entirely wrong about the orgasm thing. Besides, curiosity's natural. And you did say you're thinking about sex all the time."

"This isn't helping," Michael said, short. 

Tilly pointed at her with her fork, a cherry tomato speared on it. "What if Pike did some exploring of his own?"

That thought stopped Michael, the idea of Pike's hands on her body once again slamming into her. Her dick _twitched_. 

Michael instantly blanked her mind. "He wouldn't," she said, firm. 

Tilly hummed in agreement. "Pike's the one dude I actually believe would stop himself. But let's say for argument. He's in your body, he's already got to maintain it, and we all know what goes into that. Say he goes exploring. Do you begrudge him that?"

Michael stared, mind furiously working. Did she? Sex wasn't a strict necessity, especially in the short term. Intellectually, someone seeking pleasure while inhabiting her body felt vaguely wrong...but she also wasn't there to know about it. Would she bar someone else from that pleasure? If this were a permanent state, of course she wouldn't. That was an obvious answer. But since it was temporary...

Then there was Chris. It wasn't a purely intellectual debate because Chris was different. Her desire for him shaded everything. _Did_ she want Chris touching her?

Michael's dick twitched. 

She shifted, trying to ignore the feeling. "I don't know," she finally said, conflicted, _wanting_. 

Tilly nodded. "Fair enough," she said, tone saying she wouldn't push. For once. 

Michael smiled, endlessly grateful. She just had to get through another day and a half and then these questions would become moot. 

Maybe she would go to bed early. Spending as much of that time as possible unconscious seemed like as good a plan as any. At least that way, she wouldn't find herself in horribly embarrassing situations with various crew members. Or even Chris himself. 

Yes, sleeping it off, alone, seemed like an excellent plan. 

***

_Michael twined around Pike in a sumptuous bed, gasping as he thrust into her, their mouths clinging, everything slick and hot. She moaned as the pleasure snaked through her, but it wasn't just hers; somehow, she felt his, too. She was herself, but she was also him, feeling the outward press of his desire, the satisfaction of being filled, the heat of being surrounded, the wash of pleasure a closed loop, feeding on itself, overwhelming everything._

Michael woke on a gasp, her body shaking, every nerve ending lit up with the heat of the dream. She shifted on her side, gasping again as her sleep pants stretched over her erection, lust spiraling through her. This was more intense than before, fueled by the dream, maybe, but Michael couldn't focus enough to think it through. The only thing she could think of was how hard she was, so hard she _ached_ , the urgency of needing to come blanking out everything else. 

She panted a little, then gritted her teeth, resigning herself to another cold shower. 

***

The cold shower wasn't _working_. 

Five minutes in and her erection hadn't flagged at _all_ , stubbornly rigid and angrily red. She didn't think it was actually harmful, but she didn't know when it would go away and she had to get to the morning briefing. She couldn't be late because she was _too hard to put on pants_. That was _not_ an acceptable excuse. And not just because she couldn't say it out loud. 

Grunting in defeat, Michael's hand drifted down, wrapping around her dick. The sudden rush of _heat_ and _good_ and _yes_ went straight to her head, pleasure so shocking her knees buckled. She grabbed for the shower railing even as her hand started moving, almost like this body knew what to do even though Michael never had. Her strokes were fast and tight, pleasure surging through her with every motion, intensifying every time her hand reached the head of her dick, dizzying. 

Realizing her eyes had closed, Michael opened them with effort, looking straight through the clear shower partition to the mirror. Chris stared back, jerking himself off, whole body flushed, pleasure so clear on his face it was almost painful to look at. 

Like that, she was coming, a white wash of bliss so intense it ripped a sob from her throat, her eyes closing again as her dick _pulsed_ , again and again, Michael's hand never stopping, wringing the pleasure out of her body until it was too much, dick oversensitive. 

She loosened her hold and panted, realizing she was slumped against the shower wall, one hand still gripping the railing, the water still pounding against her back. She looked up—

And spotted Chris again, looking sated and drunk on pleasure. This was what he looked like after he came. A pulse of _heat_ swept through Michael, immediately followed by remorse. 

She shouldn't be seeing this. It was _private_. 

Michael turned away from the mirror as sudden shame washed through her. 

She needed to get to work. 

***

Jerking off had actually made it possible for Michael to put on pants and get to the morning briefing on time. Unfortunately, the morning briefing was led by Chris. As soon as she met his eyes, she looked away, not wanting to be reminded of what happened. Of that startling intimacy he'd never invited. Even though it had felt like a necessity, it also felt like a transgression, and she didn't know how to square those two things. 

She just hoped her embarrassment didn't show on his pale skin. 

***

"Burnham," Chris called, his voice carrying a captain's authority, one she'd never heard in her own. 

Michael stiffened and turned back to him, her dick pulsing a little at sight. She didn't know if that was because of what had happened in the shower, if this was just his usual reaction to women he found attractive, or if it was something specific to her. 

She didn't know anything. 

"Sir?" she finally asked. 

Chris tilted his head, expression sympathetic. "It's okay, Michael." It was a non sequitur, completely out of the blue, she should be confused. 

She knew _exactly_ what he meant. He'd read it off her instantly.

Michael shook her head. "It's not." She should have more control. She shouldn't have _looked_. Hell, she shouldn't have to resort to jerking off at all...though some part of her recognized that that seemed unreasonable, given the strength of his body's reactions. 

The corner of Chris' mouth lifted. Michael didn't think she'd ever seen that expression on her face. "Speaking as the occupant of that body for four decades and counting, I can assure you, sometimes it gets a little out of hand. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Michael flushed at the reference to hands, hoping her skin didn't betray her now as it clearly already had. Instead she focused on his words, what he was really saying. He was giving her permission, she realized. Tilly had asked her this same question—how would she feel about Chris touching her body?—and here he was, answering it for her, in a way. 

She swallowed and held his gaze, steady. "Wells found her way to a good point," she said, echoing his own words. 

Chris tilted his head, a kind of agreement and consideration in one. "I try not to argue with necessity, but honestly? I can't fault curiosity, either. It's in the job description." Then he added, dry: "Involving other people was Wells' own agenda, though, let's be clear."

"Don't you find it...weird?" Michael asked, a shade helpless. 

Chris huffed a laugh. " _Every single thing_ about this is weird. The list is endless," he said, exasperated. "I don't like my favorite whisky anymore, my bed feels too soft to sleep in, I'm cold all the time—"

"Ambient temperature is set based on male metabolic rates," Michael said idly, having looked that up once.

"No kidding."

"It was the best compromise for other species' atmospheric requirements," Michael started to explain, but Chris shook his head. 

"That's just an example by way of getting to the point: everything is weird. That you found yourself jerking off in my body is the least surprising thing I've learned so far."

Michael flushed at it being stated so plainly. Still, she marveled at him a little. "And you don't mind?"

Chris shrugged, his lips quirking. "My philosophy is that pleasure is good, we should all be enjoying our lives, and so long as we don't hurt anyone else, we should pursue that." His eyes skated down her frame, the look somehow dry. "I doubt you'll hurt me, Michael, and frankly, I'd be impressed if you found your way to something I haven't already tried. It's fine."

Helpless heat swept through her, the possibilities of _that_ spinning out in her mind, but Michael forced those thoughts away in favor of considering his words. He was saying not everything about this had to be a misery, that there was room for curiosity and pleasure and enjoyment, too. 

She had been thinking of this as an ordeal to be endured, she realized. And it was, but his line of argument wasn't entirely wrong. It was...generous. 

Much like the man himself. 

Michael's heart rate ticked up, senses tingling at Chris' point. "I can't say I have the same breadth of experience," she said, and what a dramatic understatement _that_ was, "but I can appreciate your reasoning. And I can extend the same to you."

Chris shook his head a little, like he didn't follow. "I'm sorry?"

Michael swallowed against the desire stirring inside her at the thought of Chris' hands on her body. "You should feel free to do the same. If you want."

Chris blinked at her, slow, obviously surprised. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally said, voice gone low. 

Michael's dick twitched. 

She just nodded. With one more glance to him, she walked out. 

***

Michael gasped into the shower wall, hunched over herself, hand moving frantically, liquid heat shooting down her spine. She tried to slow her strokes, to draw the pleasure out, but everything in her body screamed for her to move faster, go harder, the need to come tingling in the base of her balls, undeniable. 

She held off as long as she could—which wasn't very long; how did men have any stamina at all?—and then she was coming, long pulses of mind-blanking _heat_ that collectively screamed _yes_ through her entire body. Droplets of come hit the wall, dropped to the shower floor, even covered her fist, messy, exhilarating. 

Then it was over and she was panting, heart pounding, the water from the shower thankfully washing away both the come and her sweat. 

As her mind roused itself, she considered. Orgasming in this body was undeniably faster, simpler, a mindless rush toward pleasure that was easily satisfied. Coming when she was in her own body took longer, but also lasted longer, the pleasure more difficult to attain, but also drawn out. Michael didn't know if one was measurably _better_ ; they were just different. Though she supposed the ease with which this male body attained orgasm offered some benefits. 

Then again, supposedly women could have multiple orgasms, whereas most men were done after one.

Michael thought of her own limited sexual experience. She'd had to get _herself_ off with those few men before Ash, despite that they had come inside her, easily. Given that, on the whole, it seemed like the male sexual experience was probably better. Though, of course, it depended on the partner. 

She rinsed herself off one final time and then shut off the water. As she toweled herself dry, she caught sight of herself in the mirror...and this time, she didn't shy away. 

Chris' skin was flushed, color high in his cheeks, hair curling a little, stray droplets of water sliding down the skin of his neck, his chest, his stomach. Though it was hardly a surprise—their uniforms were rather revealing—his muscle definition was still impressive; he clearly dedicated himself to staying in shape. 

His dick was softening, still sensitive, so she was careful in drying off. Though she couldn't be sure given her different frame of reference, he seemed on the larger side of men she'd been with. She knew this was something much-discussed among women, but in her experience penis size hadn't mattered at all. They'd all failed to get her off, save for Ash, who'd devoted actual effort to it. 

Chris would devote effort to it, she thought, letting herself actually think about it for once. After all, he was unfailingly considerate. Michael couldn't imagine him satisfying himself and then rolling away, oblivious to her pleasure. 

Michael stared in the mirror. And _wanted_. 

***

She walked into the shuttle bay, clocking the buzz of people readying the shuttle for flight. Chris talked with an ensign—Jansen, maybe?—laughing at something he said. 

He laughed so easily, Michael marveled, relaxed and settled in her body. Though she was no longer falling over herself in his, she still didn't feel _right_ in it. She probably never would. 

She really hoped their return trip to the anomaly worked. 

"I bet you're jonesing to get your dick back," Jansen said just as Michael stepped up to them, raising an eyebrow. 

Chris' eyes flicked to her in greeting, though he returned focus to Jansen, shrugging. "It'd be nice, but it's hardly a red alert."

Jansen stared at Chris like that did not compute. "But—but—sex," he tried again. 

Chris half-smiled, amused despite himself. "Newsflash for you, Jansen: women can have sex, too. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He turned and moved away, inviting Michael with a look. She fell into step with him, smiling a little, both heading up the shuttle ramp. "It does ease my mind to know I'm not the only one fielding intrusive personal questions."

" _So_ much sex talk," Chris agreed. "On the upside, it's way less distracting than it would be in my body."

Michael shot him a disgruntled look. "You're definitely getting off easy there."

"But hey, you're getting off, so..." he joked, flashing her a smile. 

Michael could feel her cheeks flush, but she shook her head at him, marveling that he could actually joke about it. 

As they stepped into the shuttle, she shot one more look back at Jansen, still watching them, boggling. Then she followed Chris in. "Was that true what you said back there?"

Chris took his seat, then looked over, frowning at her. "What do you mean?"

"You're not desperate to get your dick back?" she said, dry. 

Chris huffed a laugh. "On the contrary."

Michael raised a surprised eyebrow. "Lying to the ensigns, Chris? I'm shocked."

"Everything I said was technically true," he returned, smooth. "No need to encourage their rampant focus on sex, after all." Then he took a careful breath, something vulnerable flashing through his eyes. "But as much trouble as it is, I do miss my body. I don't feel...right like this. You know?" 

Michael stared at him, wondering. "You seem so comfortable. Like it's nothing."

Chris' gaze went dark. "It's not nothing, Michael. I struggle with it, too."

She swallowed, something hurting in her throat. "You could have come to me."

He shrugged. "You were having a tough time. I didn't want to burden you with anything more."

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out, taking hold of his wrist. His skin felt hot under her hands. "Hey. You wouldn't have. You deserve support, too."

Slowly, Chris covered her hand with his other one, fingers clasping hers, heat sparking between them. Michael held his gaze, now only slightly strange to see her own face looking back. 

Saru's voice came over the comms, announcing, "Shuttle 6, you are clear for takeoff."

Like that, the moment was broken, Chris releasing her and turning to the controls. He hit the comms and said, "Copy that. Let's get this show on the road." 

Then they were off. 

***

The shuttle stopped spinning around her, the afterburn of the light flare dissipating by degree. The first thing Michael saw were her hands— _her_ hands, that was _her_ dark skin, _her_ fingers flexing as she moved them, wiping away the blood trickling from her nose. 

Her gaze snapped up, finding Chris looking back at her, his chair angled toward her, his blue eyes wide and startled. "...Michael?" he asked, like he didn't dare to hope. 

Pressure started to build behind her eyes as she nodded, smiling. "It worked."

He grinned, bright, and Michael didn't even think, she launched herself at him, colliding with him and laughing into his shoulder at the sheer joy of it. She breathed him in, that scent she'd come to recognize, but it was _him_ , not her now, and then tears were sliding down her cheeks, even as she laughed more. 

Chris' arms wrapped around her, holding her close as the laughter subsided and Michael realized she was just crying—shuddering, shaking sobs that came from nowhere. 

She stayed that way for long moments, an emotional storm gripping her, one she didn't quite understand. "I'm sorry," she stuttered out, horrified at this loss of control, trying to pull away, wiping at the tears that wouldn't stop. "I don't know why I'm crying."

Chris brushed more of her tears away, fingers soft on her cheeks, his expression full of such understanding that Michael's eyes stung again. "You've had so much taken from you. Your parents. Your freedom. And then your body, too? It was too much."

Philippa dying flashed before her eyes, then the look in Ash's eyes as he choked the life of out her, and suddenly Michael was crying again, Chris tugging her back against him, making soft noises into her hair and holding her tight. "I've got you, Michael. I'm here. It's okay."

And he _did_ , the comfort and safety of his arms somehow making her cry harder, Michael clinging to Chris' shoulder as he held her. Eventually, the tears lessened, the sound of his steady heartbeat soothing once she could hear it. 

Michael had no idea how long it had been when the comms activated. " _Discovery_ to Captain Pike, come in, please."

Chris reached over to hit something, otherwise not moving, one hand stroking her back. Michael suddenly realized she was _sitting in his lap_ , a dim horror dawning low in her gut. "Pike here. We're good, _Discovery_. It worked."

Saru's response was tinged with pleasure. "Excellent news, sir. Our sensors indicate that your shuttle is running a self-diagnostic. May we be of assistance?"

"No need. I noticed a blip in the thruster readings after we passed through the aperture that second time. Just double-checking that all systems are green. That should finish in the next few minutes and we'll be on our way back to you."

"Very good, sir. _Discovery_ out."

Michael pulled back enough to look at Chris. "Blip in the thruster readings?"

He half-shrugged. "It's not a total lie. There was something funky for a second." Then his look softened as he tilted his head. "And you needed a minute."

Michael swallowed, her throat still thick with tears. "Thank you." 

Chris nodded, easy and accepting. 

Which was when it really hit her that she was still _sitting in his lap_. She gestured to the co-pilot's chair. "I should, uh—" 

"Yeah, of course," he said, clipped, just as Michael pushed herself away, backing into her own chair. 

Once there she focused on the panels before her, scrubbing at her face again and checking the readouts. Nothing seemed out of line with their original trip here, but it gave her something to do. Something _other_ than staring at Chris. 

As she rechecked her readings, Chris powered up their thrusters and flew them smoothly back to the _Discovery_. Michael watched his hands as he did, pale fingers confident and sure as he worked the controls. It sent a stab of _something_ through her, heat at the back of her neck making her flush. 

So that hadn't gone away. 

Michael kept her eyes on her data as they returned home, aware of how close to the surface her emotions were right now. She needed some distance to properly process this. 

She glanced over at Chris, preoccupied by the controls. 

Even if distance wasn't _at all_ what she wanted. 

***

Tilly waited for them as the ramp extended, nervous energy rolling off her in waves, only emphasized by Saru's serene stillness beside her. "There she is. Michael!" she called, rushing forward as Michael started toward her, Chris following a step behind. 

Michael knew that Tilly could see she'd been crying, but she didn't mention it, just wrapped her in a hug with a relieved, "I'm so happy you're back to being you!" She squeezed Michael tight, then pulled back, tossing a look to Chris. "Not that you're not awesome, but I was getting really tired of looking up."

Chris quirked a half-smile at the both of them. "I'd say it's nice to be back looking down on you, but I think that'd give the wrong impression."

Michael flashed him a smile, Tilly following suit, as Saru stepped up to join them. "And I am glad _everyone_ is back where they were meant to be," Saru said pointedly. Then he looked to Tilly. "Your turn, Ensign. You have the proof you requested, I'm sure your station will be missing you." 

"Oh, my god, you're sending me back to work?" Off his look she instantly changed tune. "I mean, yes, sir. Right away, sir." She tossed a warm look to Michael and then hurried off, Saru shaking his head as she did. 

"Some days I fear my indulgences only encourage her," Saru said, mild.

Chris flashed him a kind smile. "I think we can all use a little reassurance given these strange days." He looked to Michael, eyes soft. "Speaking of, you should take forty-eight, Commander. Rest. Get me your report when you can."

Michael might have protested, but she could see that his eyes held only silent support. She nodded. "Thank you, Captain."

"And I must insist on the same for you, sir," Saru added helpfully. "You've both been through an ordeal. You _both_ need space to reacclimate."

Chris opened his mouth, like _he_ was about to protest...and then he reconsidered. "You're right about that. I leave the _Discovery_ to you, Mr. Saru." He looked to Michael, some kind of offer there. "And Michael, if you want to talk...I'm here."

Michael's throat went tight, that pressure building behind her eyes again. "Thank you, sir," she managed, smiling tightly before she turned and headed for the door. 

She didn't look back. 

***

Saru wasn't wrong. A shower—in her own body—and a nap—in her own bed—did wonders for her equilibrium, Michael no longer feeling like she was a breath from breaking down. 

Now she was just appalled that she _had_. And all over the captain. 

But that wasn't fair. It hadn't been Captain Pike who had held her close and murmured comfort into her hair, easy and accepting. It had been Chris. 

That distinction seemed important. 

***

Having written her report, Michael found herself oddly restless, fidgety in a way she never was. She pulled on her exercise clothes and determined to run it out. It was probably just excess adrenaline from everything they'd been through. 

So Michael ran, the rhythmic thump of her footfalls matching her heartbeat. She reveled in the burn of her lungs, the shake of her muscles, all of it grounding her, focusing her on the present. On this _feeling_. 

She rounded a corner, marveling at the movement of her own body—

And almost collided with Chris, on a run of his own. 

Chris laughed, shaking his head like _of course_. "You and I had the same idea," he said, breathless and flushed, the sight instantly sending heat through her, remembering the last time she'd seen him look like that. In a mirror, drunk on pleasure. 

The want spiraled through her thick and fast. She swallowed against it, trying not to let it show. 

"Great minds think alike," she offered with a small smile, getting another in return. 

"I'll take that," he said, light. 

Michael stared at his mouth, then pulled her eyes away when she realized. He was...far too distracting. 

So she nodded once, granting it to him with a teasing grin. "Now that we've agreed on that, I'll let you get back to your run."

With that, she tipped her head and took off running again. Considering. 

***

Michael stood at the door to Chris' quarters, her stomach roiling, but he was the only one she could talk to about it. Even if his presence kept stealing her focus, she needed to know. 

So she pressed the door chime, waiting, stomach fluttering. After a beat, the doors opened—

Michael stepped inside, taking in the captain's quarters, where she'd never been. The main room was homey, more of those southwestern accents familiar from his ready room. Like he went to effort to make this place somewhere he'd want to be. 

Chris sat on the couch, wearing comfortable pants and a t-shirt, setting a PADD aside as he stood, smiling at her. "Michael," he said, pleasure clear in his voice. 

"I'd say that I hope I'm not interrupting, but you have two days off, so I can't be," she said with a smile. 

Chris laughed. "You got me there. Come in, come in. Tea?" he asked, ushering her over to the couch, already heading for the replicator. 

"Please." Michael took in the room as he collected the tea—a desk on one side, meal table on the opposite, along with a sitting area comprised of green couches, arm chairs, and a coffee table. She couldn't imagine Lorca here. It was far too inviting. 

She caught sight of the PADD he'd set aside, still showing some kind of supply report. She looked over at him as he brought their tea over, shaking her head. "I thought Saru told you to take a break."

Chris set the tea down on the table, smiling as he took a seat. "Also known as getting some of my damned paperwork done. Or multitasking."

"Or workaholism."

Chris took a sip of his tea, raising a pointed eyebrow. "Should you really be casting stones?"

Michael took hold of her cup, saluting him with it. "I grant you that." She took a sip—green jasmine, her favorite—and made an appreciative noise. 

Michael thought Chris stared at her for a moment, but she blinked and it was gone, Chris asking, "How are you?" like they did this all the time. 

She took a breath. "Still processing, I think. Are you—do you feel...different?" she asked, getting to the reason she had come here, desperately curious. 

Chris cocked his head. "Different how?"

Michael swallowed. She had hoped he would just _know_ , that she wouldn't have to describe it. "I don't know. Like this sense of perfect rightness, of being exactly who you should be, everything in sync."

Chris smiled, soft, almost wistful. "Well, now I want some of what you're having."

Michael deflated a bit, somehow a shade mournful at that. She wanted him to be able to feel this. 

He saw it and rushed to reassure her. "Hey, it's fine. I feel...restored. Like I'm myself again, in the most literal sense. That's a hell of thing."

She let her lips curl, seeing his satisfaction, feeling the warmth of it. "Sounds like it."

"That's not what you're feeling?"

Michael shook her head. "But we're probably working from different contexts. Before all this I was...uneasy in my own skin."

"And getting dumped in my body proved to you how good you had it?" he asked, light. "Gee, thanks."

Michael flicked a hand at him. "Not what I meant, flyboy." 

Chris dodged, laughing, his cup of tea sloshing over, hot liquid splashing his hand, making him hiss. Michael leaned in to grab for his cup, her own spilling, the two of them tumbling into each other with a laugh. 

Michael leaned into him, warm, chuckling, setting her cup aside, next to his. But once the laughter subsided, she didn't move away, resting against his chest, breathing him in. He still smelled familiar, both comforting and enticing at the same time. 

Chris ran one hand lightly down her back, probably meant to be soothing, but it sent a shiver up her spine, _want_ following in its wake. 

She wanted _so much_. 

Michael looked up, still leaning against him. His eyes were already on her, such warmth there. She remembered the way his body reacted to the sight of hers. With the way he was looking at her now, maybe with her it really was...more. She swallowed, reaching for her bravery. "Can we?" she asked, a little helpless.

Something flickered in his eyes. "I've been waiting for you," he said, soft. 

Michael felt a heady flash of relief/happiness/desire slide through her, Chris' eyes warming further as he took her in. "In that case," she said, rising up—

And pressing her mouth to his. 

Chris smiled into the kiss, then slid his mouth against hers, slowly, like he wanted to get it right. Michael made some noise against his lips and he tilted his head and kissed her harder, sending more of that delicious heat spreading through her. 

Michael slid a hand into his hair, tugging at the dark strands demandingly, nipping at his lips. 

Chris pulled back a breath, smiling a little. "Something you wanted?" he asked, cheeky. 

She just grinned and sat up, fully sliding into his lap, pressing herself against him as she kissed him again, swiping her tongue along his bottom lip. 

Chris groaned, his hands wrapping around her, anchoring her to him as he opened his mouth, the kisses deeper, though still soft. 

Michael pulled herself a breath away. "Time to take me to bed, Chris," she murmured against his mouth. 

She tasted his smile. 

***

Michael never imagined that scrambling out of their clothes in Chris' bed would be a joyful affair, the two of them giggling through it, getting distracted by their kisses and forgetting themselves, only to find clothes in the way again. 

She definitely heard fabric ripping when she yanked the shirt off him. Hopefully it didn't have sentimental value. 

But the thought got lost because then they were naked, exploring each other's bodies, and there was something so grounding about it, even as she felt like she was flying, learning him in a whole new way. 

Michael scraped her fingers down his arms, smiling at the faint pink lines her nails left, mouthing one. "You turn colors," she breathed against his skin, lips trailing down the scratches. 

Chris laughed, breathless. "Only for you," he murmured, dipping down for her mouth, kissing her long and involved. When he pulled back his eyes were mischievous. "You were giving me a bad rep, getting all flustered and flushed."

"Your skin shows _everything_ ," she muttered, still annoyed it had so betrayed her. 

"It took me a while to get a hold of," he agrees, groaning as she pressed her body all along his, their skin sliding against each other deliciously. "God, you feel good."

Michael made a noise that agreed with him, clumsily finding his mouth again, the two of them losing themselves in the kiss. She broke away to breathe against him, reveling in how they moved together. "This feels so—" She didn't know how to put it into words, a sense of rightness permeating everything. 

Chris seemed to get it anyway. "It does," he breathed, cupping her chin, then leaning in to kiss her once, soft.

He trailed his fingers down her body, teasing, and Michael arched into him, delighting in the sparks his touch lit under her skin. 

She gasped as his hand moved between her legs, touch so _sure_. Expert. It rang a bell in her mind, Michael trying to focus even as clever fingers worked through her slick folds. "When we were switched—did you—" she gasped, rolling her hips into his touch, trying to get more. 

"Now that would be telling," he said, low, wicked, kissing her again. 

"Chris," she said, plaintive. 

He hmmed against her, a thoughtful note to it, even as his fingers slowed from where they circled her clit. "This angle isn't quite—" His look turned devious. "Oh, I know." Then he pulled away. 

Michael was about to protest, but before she could he'd smoothly rolled onto her other side, crowding close behind her, his body curving against hers, hot skin to hot skin, his erection snug against her ass, his mouth trailing sharp little nips down her neck. His arm went around her, hand moving between her legs again—

She gasped as he touched her _perfectly_ , a light fingertip flicking just under her clit, a streak of white lighting up Michael's vision as heat sizzled through her. She grasped the covers, crying out as he did it again, the sound uncontrolled.

Chris chuckled into her ear, then sucked on her earlobe as his fingers continued moving, stoking the fire within like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. His fingers fluttered around her clit, teasing just right, her body feeling wet, empty, wanting.

"Please," she gasped out, moving against his hand, one hand grasping onto his forearm, feeling the flex of muscle there as he touched her. 

"Yeah," he breathed into her ear, hand slowing. He nudged her knees up, Michael following his lead, feeling him shift behind her. 

She gasped as his dick pressed against her entrance, giving her a moment to get used to it before he slowly thrust inside, lighting her up as he did. He bottomed out with a satisfied little huff, something about that sending a zip of pleasure through her, even aside from the way he filled her, so _deep_. She gripped the covers as he moved, retreating and then thrusting in, changing angles as he did, his fingers still playing over her clit as he sucked lightly on her neck. 

The next stroke hit something that made her groan, sending a spasm of heat through her that was completely outside her control. Chris made a pleased noise against her skin, then kept working that angle, her body fluttering around him, the hand between her legs too light to bring her off, but she could feel herself getting closer. 

"Computer, mirror," he muttered, voice scratchy. 

It took Michael a moment to focus on the mirror window that opened before them. When she finally did, she flushed at the sight—her expression was wanton, Chris wrapped around her, hand between her legs, blue eyes sharp as he met her gaze in the mirror. His rhythm didn't falter, but she could see the flash of satisfaction in his eyes as he took them in. 

It reminded her of the lavatory mirror, seeing Chris undone, and the pleasure of it ignited within her. 

She moaned and pressed back against him, her hand squeezing his forearm, urging him on. "I want to—"

She broke off with a gasp as Chris circled her clit, firm, _just_ like she liked. He fucked her a little harder as his fingers sped up, Michael shuddering around him, hand probably crushing his wrist, but she couldn't help it, she was hanging right on the edge, _right there_ —

He tapped his fingers against her and that was _it_ , she called out, all her muscles tightening as he drew the orgasm out of her, hand moving over her, fucking her with tight little thrusts, her body squeezing around him as she came with a silent yell. 

Chris bit her shoulder as he came, shuddering against her, crushing her to him. A little thrill shot through her as she stared into the mirror, recognizing his expression. But this time it was _him_ , actually him, here losing control because of her. Her body clenched around him at the thought, wringing an echoing moan from him.

They stayed like that, breathing against each other as their bodies came down from the high, Michael feeling the sweat at her lower back, Chris so warm behind her. 

Eventually his arm relaxed a little. Chris pulled his hand from between her legs, slipping out of her with a sigh and shifting away. "Cancel mirror," he said idly, urging her to roll onto her back. 

Chris met her with a kiss, their mouths easy, his hand moving from her cheek, traveling down her neck, breast, stomach, before coming back again, a slow slide that didn't seem like it was meant to arouse, but still sent a little thrill through her. It was somehow...covetous. Something in her responded to that. 

Eventually, he broke the kiss, looking down at her with soft eyes, then dropping his mouth to her shoulder, then kissing over to her arm. 

Michael shifted against him, liking how he curled around her, comforting. "So that was a yes, then?" she murmured, her voice gravelly and dark. 

"Hmm?" he asked against her tricep, scraping his teeth there. 

Michael met his eyes, shooting him a _come on_ look, gesturing to her hips. "That wasn't beginner's luck."

Chris leaned back, lips quirking. "I may have explored a little."

She shot him a shrewd look. "How little?" 

He traced his fingers up her arm, seeming to delight in touching her. "Just once," he said, innocent. 

" _Once_?" She couldn't help the surprise in her voice. For only touching her body once...he was certainly proficient. 

Chris flashed her a pleased grin. "I'm a quick learner."

Michael snorted. "Good, because next time I want you on top of me."

His smile sharpened into something predatory. "That can be arranged."

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


End file.
